Love Cuts
by Harmonian2KT
Summary: There's a hole in the world like a great black pit, And the vermin of the world inhabit it, And it's morals aren't worth what a pig can spit, And it goes by the name of London. Book One of the Legend of the Seventh Key.
1. Memories

Love Cuts

Legend of the Seventh Key – Book One

Harmonian2KT

Prologue – Memories

Smog choked the streets; coated the air with its poisonous essence. Drags of the deadly atmosphere was breathed into the lungs of the unguarded, inciting disease, illness and death. It would not be an uncommon sight to see oldster, younger or once healthy body tossed forth like waste onto the streets; caught in their final death throes as the deadly smog claimed another soul.

The mask into which she breathed stank, tainted by the breathe of her un-cleaned mouth, mingled with the essence of several glasses of Gin she had consumed the last of which less than an hour before.

The whore was a wreck; tatters of clothes her only decency as she attempted to solicit her last customer of the night. Once the garb had been at the height of fashion, the woman once as high and worthy as any of the prosperous souls. Now however, the whores dirt stained bodice and tattered outer dress hung from her frame like the ragged remnants of her worn and eroding life.

The entrance of the alley to which she stood was soiled with waste, old bags of garbage stinking and alive with vermin was repulsive to see. The alley itself was once used as a collecting station for the cart of workers whose job it was to cleanse the streets. The slums were never touched however, the people of the southron east cast aside, their houses, streets, pubs and residencies littered with those things, the race the civilised had named: The Filth.

The Filth, though they resembled people were less than even the post human beings known as the Immortals. Barbarians, sub human, the wastes of a world long forgotten. The Filth had once had a place, the situation in society that had once been both prosperous and peaceful. However, for reasons unknown to the civilised, the government had dared believe the Filth should consider themselves equal to the cities other inhabitants. They had granted rights, a position of life for the Filth beside the civilised and post humans. A new order that had destroyed the very foundations to which life had once been built. Now, even beyond the wastes of the southron east, The Filth had chosen to hide behind these new rights, their own immunity from the law and justice to fill the streets of The City with terror, crime and fear.

The whore spat on the floor at this memory, her own scars still to fresh to heal.

The night was slowly fading and the woman began to trek the streets once more, hoping for at least the chance to obtain the means of securing a bed. The streets sifted through the smog, the cobblestone road and worn pavement empty and void of life except for her own.

Worry crept into her soul as she turned and ventured on.

"Ginny?" the muffled sound of woman's voice came from on high. The whore, Ginny, wheeled gazing through the haze of black to sight a masked girl framed in a window. Ginny rolled her eyes at the sight of her, the girl was a fellow whore only owing to her golden hair and curves she had always been more desirable to the paying customers. Ginny offered the girl a wave as Lavender Brown gestured for her to come closer.

"You're working late love, what's wrong?" Lavender inquired, her voice muffled by her smog mask as Ginny called forth up to the buildings second storey window.

"Slow night, who are you with?" Ginny questioned, even though her face was covered Ginny could sense Lavenders smile.

"I got a Immortal, wanna come up I'm sure he wont mind."

Ginny's being grew sick with envy. Lavender always managed to bed the best. Immortals, even down to the newly turned, possessed powers of sex beyond a mere length or petal. It was said that a Immortal could sense the thoughts of a lesser being and even control them with little more than a gaze. Ginny had never bedded a Immortal, nor truly been social with one to believe such stories, but sometimes Ginny would see Lavender, bow legged from her sessions with her Immortal clients, rich with wealth and dreamy with pleasure. Challenge flooded Ginny's eyes as she ventured towards the building.

"Bitch!" Ginny hissed within her mask as slowly the door was opened.


	2. Aftermath

Chapter One – Aftermath

Ron Weasley's head ached.

Issuing a pathetic groan of tedium united into a cough of fatigue Ron allowed himself to sit up. His circular, silk swathed bed was a litter of beer cans, spirit bottles and other more unsavoury things. A faint trace of music played in the background of his home, sounding as strident as a ManOwar concert to his sex drained, drug smashed and alcohol abused brain. Succubus' were always the best shag but god did they take their payment.

It had only been because of his drug fuelled blood that this one had not devoured him completely. Ron had learned a long time ago, not to bed one of the Demon whores without filling his body with as much artificial substances as possible. Succubus' were normally extremely picky about who they fed from, willing to bed someone like Ron for the thrill of sex, but to calm their eternal hunger the Demon Whores only fed from the most pure, promising and untainted souls. This most certainly was not Ronald Weasley. Normally he would have been safe with the amount of booze he had consumed and coke he had sniffed, but whoever he had picked up last night couldn't have been picky. The bitch must have tried to feed from him until, Ron guessed, his tainted blood had nearly poisoned her.

"Idiot." Ron sniggered, tossing aside his bed sheets unveiling the strong but slowly eroding beauty of his body. Ron coughed up a lungful of shit, the aftermath of his binge as he sat at the edge of his bed, bummed a cigarette from a pack of twenty and snapped his lighter.

Taking a deep drag of his cancer stick Ron exhaled the smoke through his nostrils, the joy of mornings first cigarette flooding his body with the rush of nicotine. Ron stood, his body naked as a new born as he staggered upwards the world spinning. His body was a decoration of tattoos, from his depictions of personal messages:_ Love me, Hate me, you'll all end up like me,_ to his names of the many women he had bedded written onto the cheeks of his arse, Ron was a living work of art.

His body had once been an aesthetic temple, a tribute to health and beauty. However his lifestyle was slowly destroying any of that beauty, his stomach beginning to bulge, his muscles weakening with indolence and abuse. Ron, on willowed legs, staggered over to the full length mirror which was decorated with a number of gifts from his many conquests as, through blood shot eyes Ron looked at himself. Even he could not deny the difference he saw in himself, however this did not fill him with a senses of disgust as it would others, Ron saw the erosion of his beauty as a understandable sacrifice for the thrills of his current life.

Ron sensed her enter before he saw her.

The smog which had entered his living space from the outside world was quickly destroyed due to Ron's purifier. Taking off her mask she approached on booted heels, her air one of intense toughness, a trait Ron couldn't help but find desirable and sexy.

"Hello bitch." Ron spoke as a way of his morning greeting. Daphne Greengrass sniggered unwilling to be offended by, what she knew, was Ron's way of affection. He petal moistened at the sight of him though she couldn't help but notice his weakness, it was clear he had been with another one of those whores and whoever it was certainly had tried to drain him. Daphne smiled and shook her head.

"Was she worth it?" Daphne questioned lightly, seeing Ron turn to face her. Hell he was in a bad way. "How much shit did you take this time?" Ron extended his hands to his side and shrugged a cocky smile crossing his lips.

"How the hell should I know, no less than usual."

"And she still fed from you?" Daphne sniggered the old fire house Ron used as his place of residence consisting of an overly large bedroom and sitting room combo. Daphne stepped towards the bar which lined the eastern wall and pulled herself a drink from a rack of booze before lifting their breakfast onto the bar side: chopped white power on a mirror.

Ron's eyes drank in her beauty. Shoulder length pale-blonde hair left free to fall, short length leather skirt kept up with braces and bikini top. Despite his weakness Ron felt his sex lengthen. Daphne began to separate two lines of cocaine onto the mirror, itself scratched from a lifetime of razor abuse. Taking a piece of drinking straw Daphne snorted her own line of coke, her body bent over the bar as Ron came behind her.

It happened quickly. Ron threw up Daphne;s skirt unveiling her unclad sex. Daphne braced herself, felt him enter her, hard, she moaned. This would be over quick, Ron was never the same after a Demon round, but still Daphne knew she would enjoy this. To offer extra stamina Daphne handed Ron back the mirror placing the mirror on the flat of her arched back, her free hand supporting herself as Ron rocked her body. Ron snorted the coke without tool or implement, like an animal he groaned pulling back tight on her hair as he road her into oblivion. Ron fucked Daphne, hard and rough until both he and his partner came. Daphne moaned, Ron groped her arse in satisfaction as the blonde haired woman looked back at her lover.

"You better get ready bitch, we got a date with Harmony." Daphne stated breathlessly. Ron snorted, pulling out his still lengthened sex from within his partner. His length was covered in juice both male and female. Forcefully Ron shoved Daphne to her knees, her mouth opening instinctively as he forced his length within her gob. Daphne sucked hard, her tongue cleaning him of bodily fluid, the coke certainly was working... Harmony would have to wait a while.


	3. Grave Tidings

Chapter Two – Grave Tidings

The air within the residencies of London were always crisp, cool and artificially purified owing to each buildings technological generators which made the air of any establishments fit to breathe. Each purifier within every abode was to be screened and maintained by those who possessed it; a requirement partaken traditionally every three days, sometimes less and many choosing to enforce this task daily. Be it a simple hostel or lavish night spot it was down to the residences of London to ensure their own safety from the poisonous air which polluted their city.

Ron and Daphne entered the Three Broomsticks pub, a lively and friendly ale house which was often a place of social gathering for Ron and his friends. Ever since Ron had been thirteen years old Ron had been a regular of the public house, gradually building his alcohol tolerance from child friendly Butterbeer to magically aged Fire Whiskey to Madam Rosmerta's intense Special Brew.

The ale House was once more its packed a energetic self. The serving girls of the house hurried from table to table collecting empty glasses, carrying trays laden with hot food or drinks while, at the centre of it all the dance floor was taken up by a crowd who surrounded two lively individuals. Today was Ron's favourite of days to visit the Three Broomsticks, which would often hold differing themed evenings, today was rocking Wednesday.

The sound of Def Leppard's classic: Pour Some Sugar On Me pumped from the Jukebox. At the heart of the dance floor, surrounded by a crowd of gathered rockers, Ron sighted Harmony, or so was the nickname the two lovers had come to be known by. Hermione Granger, her dance partners common law wife looked for all the world the epitome of beauty. Long, rich curls allowed to cascade to the small of her back whilst, in tight torn jeans and grungy Tee, she danced with her partner. Harry Potter still possessed all the aesthetic beauty of a fitness model: ratio formed, V shaped body with broad shoulders leading to a hard, narrow waist. As the head of the SAS: Supernatural Auror Service, it was Harry's sworn duty to protect the citizens of London from any dark creatures that mite be a risk to public safety.

Today, Ron knew, was not a day when the young man had free time so, even Ron's scrambled braincells could guess that this was something more serious, the reason why Harmony wished a meeting with him. The music slowly died venturing into a soft rock ballad as the two lovers shared a kiss. A stab of jealousy spiked whilst Ron watch Hermione kiss his best friend so passionately. Once Ron and Hermione had tried to form a relationship, back in the late years of their school days. They had never found a way to combat their incredible differences: where Ron was aggressive, argumentative and lazy, Hermione was sweet, passionate, loyal and intelligent. The result had been some of the best sex the young man had ever received but in the end Hermione had needed someone more emotionally understanding and, it seemed, Ron had pushed her straight into the arms of his best friend. The thought still made Ron angry at himself and, unknown to Daphne, had started him on this downward slope to oblivion.

Hermione still possessed her alluring beauty as she walked from the dance floor towards Ron. Her hips swayed drawing looks of appreciation and allure from many of the gathered guys. Ron saw Harry's dark snigger as his eyes met that of a patron who was sneaking glimpse of Hermione. The man gave Harry a thumbs up in respect, Harry winked and returned the gesture. Ron could read the meaning a easily as if Harry had spoke it: Look all you want mate, I'm her man.

Harry seemed to take such looks as praise and with an air of pride. Ron, despite his own looks of desire towards Hermione did not believe he could be so easy with leering eyes. Perhaps it was a confidence thing? It was clear that Harmony were meant for each other and each were confident with themselves, an emotion that was long eroded from Ron and Daphne.

"Ronnie!" Hermione chimed holding her arms out wide ready for an embrace. Ron rushed forwards towards his former woman and hoisted her high into the air. Daphne sniggered as she shared a hug with Harry, eyes fixed on Ron over Harry's shoulder at the ecstasy she saw in the face of her lover. A sense of disappointment filled her heart as she pulled from Harry's embrace. Daphne hid her dejection well, so greatly that even Harry, a trained Auror, saw not her sadness. Harry and Ron grasped hands when Hermione and Ron had pulled apart.

"You're getting fat, mate." Harry commented, stabbing a finger into the slight bulge he saw protruding beneath Ron's leather vest. His eyes scanned his best friend. Thick leather trousers and boots united with a simple leather waist coat had once been worn to exhibit his beauty. Now however Ron was a lot thinner, his beauty was all but diminished and he had the comings of a beer gut. Tightly Harry grasped the arm of his friend. Ron winced, snarled as, forcefully, Harry turned his friends arm over, exposing the many scars of needles which had stabbed his veins.

Harry's gaze met Ron's, a look of intense disappointment uniting with a rebels fury.

"Leave it, mate!" Ron hissed low, dark and ominous. Harry's emerald green eyes flashed with concern and rage behind his chic spectacles. He frowned and relinquished his hold on Ron's arm. The junky pulled back his appendage, massaged the area where Harry's strength had squeezed. Harry gazed towards Hermione, she too understood.

"Sit." Harry snapped gesturing with a kick of his head towards a free booth in the corner of the bar.

"Ron... how long have you been doing that shit?" Hermione questioned of her former partner. The auburn haired man gave Hermione a look that in one instant told her to squash any more questions. Harry saw the look and the expression of dejection it evoked in his lover. Reaching forth Harry squeezed Hermione's hand beneath the table as he came to sit across from his best friend.

"Herms... Harry... you haven't brought me here to lecture me on my lifestyle, what's going on?" Ron asked of the pair. Harry and Hermione exchanged intense looks wondering if the information they had come to deliver was right for one in such a state of self destruction. Gently Harry nodded towards Hermione.

"Ron..." Hermione said gently, reaching forth and taking his hand gently in both of hers. An air of dread settled over the young junky as he caressed the back of Hermione's hand with his thumb. "This isn't easy... however, Harry and I felt it would be best you hear the news from us."

Ron's shaded blue eyes grew hazed with fear.

"What is it?" questioned Ron looking from Hermione to his best friend. Harry breathed and dropped the bombshell.

"It's Ginny... Ron... she's dead."


End file.
